


i scratch your sweet name right into my skin

by sungyeowl



Series: lost in today and the past; lost in the future we had [9]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, a continuation to We are the kings of suburbia, i don't think so, roadtrip au because can you ever get enough of those?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:40:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungyeowl/pseuds/sungyeowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>“Stop overthinking, Thomas,” Minho’s voice and a small nudge to his shoulder snap Thomas back to reality. “We need this, man, you know it.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” he exhales, looking over to the side. Minho is smiling next to him, eyes squinted and cheeks puffed up. He’s <i>happy</i>. And as far as Thomas can judge from the merry humming coming from the backseat, so is Newt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i scratch your sweet name right into my skin

**Author's Note:**

> it's a continuation to [we are the kings of suburbia](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3479966), but still makes perfect sense without it ^^
> 
> [tumblr prompt](http://annatries.tumblr.com/post/112714701464/thominewt-25-and-1-please-and-thank-you): 1. _chocolate_ and 25. _sunlight_

Thomas is not sure how he ends up in Newt’s sister’s car with Newt and Minho and three bags of food and a travel cooler. But he does, and behind the steering wheel at that, driving to whoever-knows-where.

It’s a blur when Thomas tries to remember how this happened. It was Sunday, Minho, Newt and he were chilling on his balcony. It was warm and lazy, nice indeed, and then Minho, head propped up against Thomas’ leg suggested going on vacation. And the next thing Thomas knew, Newt perked up (knocking over Minho’s can of coke in the process), already grabbing for his phone and calling his sister, demanding she lends them her car.

And the next day here they are, going on a freaking road trip, skipping the last classes before the exam session.

Thomas is still not convinced they should be doing this – they’ve got to study, and skipping classes – university or not – is never a good idea. But Minho and Newt looked so happy with the idea, and so eager to actually run away from their lives for a bit. He couldn’t say no, not really. Not when Newt’s sister agreed and not when Minho arranged a meeting with Brenda to hand her over Thomas’ dog, Lucius, for those few days. Not when Thomas was the only one who could drive – Minho without a driving license and Newt with his bad leg weren’t an option.

“Stop overthinking, Thomas,” Minho’s voice and a small nudge to his shoulder snap Thomas back to reality. “We need this, man, you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he exhales, looking over to the side. Minho is smiling next to him, eyes squinted and cheeks puffed up. He’s  _happy_. And as far as Thomas can judge from the merry humming coming from the backseat, so is Newt.

And that, after another moment of consideration, seems enough for him to relax completely.

For the next few hours they drive, talking in hushed voices and laughing, or just sitting without a word. The air is somehow dense, too condensed to be comfortable; Thomas’ hands are clammy on the steering wheel, his palms sticking to the fake leather. There’s no air-con,  of which he complained about as soon as they started driving, but it doesn’t appear to be an issue anymore. His muscles are relaxed, the smile doesn’t leave his face, and there’s a pleasant tingle every time Newt bends over the back of Thomas’ seat and presses a kiss behind his ear.

“Now, Tom-boy, try and tell me this ain’t nice,” Minho dares, swinging his arm over Thomas’ shoulder and dragging him closer to the river. They have taken a detour (as far as he could say so, since they didn’t set a specific destination in the first place), entering a more rural area – Thomas had actually had some problems driving the old car down the bumpy dirt road after Minho had spotted the river through the trees.

“It is nice,” Thomas agrees, chuckling shortly, because  _it is_  and because Minho doesn’t show it, but obviously worries if Thomas likes it.

Newt brings a blanket and some snacks and they spread it over on the grassy shore, settling down for a break.

It’s got to be past noon, Thomas muses, too lazy to check his phone. The sunlight catches in Newt’s fair hair and makes Minho’s eyes sparkle. It’s bright and warm, and Thomas should probably start worrying if they will make it in time to any motel for the night, but he can’t bring himself to care, all of sudden feeling overwhelmed with peace and blissfulness.

The blanket and the grass are soft under his back when Thomas lies down, stretching his arms widely so they don’t ache after he glued them to the steering wheel for so much time.

 _We didn’t bring any sunscreen, shit_ , the thought races through Thomas’ hazed mind but his eyes droop, his limbs are already losing power, so he lets sleep take over him,  hoping only not to wake up sunburnt.

Something is pulling at his consciousness, bringing him back from his slumber and Thomas wakes up eventually. He doesn’t open his eyes for some time, relishing in the feeling of sun-warmed skin and the faint smell of what he can only describe as  _nature_. It seems real and surreal at the same time – the peaceful atmosphere and the sunbeams, the gentle sound of flowing water, and nothing more.  _Nothing more_ , Thomas realizes, eyes snapping open. Not a sound of conversation or of Newt’s soft snores or Minho’s deep, steady breathing.

The man sits up, spine cracking, propping up on the heels of his hands.

His eyes wander for a moment, taking in his surroundings, and no wonder Thomas didn’t hear a thing. Newt and Minho are farther away, walking slowly along the river, careful not to step too close to the water. Minho is saying something, gesturing wildly with the hand that doesn’t grip Newt’s one; they’re smiling, lost in the sunlight and in their laughter, lost in _each other_ , really.

A gnawing feeling appears in the pit of Thomas’ stomach. He tries to suppress it, as he has done a few times already; it’s bad, it’s not needed and it’s pointless, and he didn’t feel like that for some time already. But it surfaces again, because Newt and Minho look so happy and carefree, so complete; Thomas hates it, with all his might, but it reminds him that he’s the third one – that he hasn’t known them for as long as they knew each other, that he’s the youngest. The newest addition to their relationship.

As soon as that awful thought appears in his head Thomas cringes, gritting his teeth. Because Minho and Newt never made him feel that way, he had no reason to feel left out. They were equal – their love, it was the same, Thomas reminds himself, and sets his mind on the memory of Newt yelling at him when he expressed his doubts once, at the very beginning.

He’s ready to curse at himself for being stupid (again) out loud, but Newt’s call interrupts him.

Thomas lifts his head up and sees the two boys walking back to him, smiling from ear to ear, and  _damn_ , how could he ever think he was less important?

“Ya finally up, buddy?” Newt grins when they’re in front of him and plops on the blanket, sitting cross-legged in front of Thomas. His hair is mussed and the top of his cheeks are rosy from the sun. He looks not as tired as he has for the past few weeks because of his excessive studying, and Thomas thinks with definition that this trip was in fact a great idea.

“Yep, all peachy,” Thomas smiles back but reaches up and grabs at the hem of Minho’s sleeve, pulling him down. The man complies, laughing at Thomas’ urgency, and sits down next to him.

Thomas leans into him and smiles when Minho automatically adjusts his position so he’s holding Thomas in a half-embrace.

“Did ya rest?” Miho makes sure, his lips brushing lightly over Thomas’ hair when he speaks. His breath  is warm and his skin is too, Thomas muses as he turns over and hides his face in Minho’s neck.

“Mhm,” he replies slowly, his hand reaching forward blindly, demanding. It takes a split second for Newt to take his hand in his palms and intertwine their fingers tightly. “Could probably drive all night now. And, guys?”

“Yeah?” Minho asks lazily.

“You are the best and I love you.”

(Thomas’ not so sure anymore when they find out Minho has left a half-eaten chocolate bar on the dashboard and it melted, dripping to the floor of the car and staining the carpet  _and_  the seat; Newt scolds him for solid fifteen minutes because Minho can’t seem to stop laughing at his frustration. Thomas gets a headache and drives faster, hoping for a heavy, bonding make-out session when they’re finally at the motel.)


End file.
